Framley Parsonage, Anthony Trollope [popular e readers txt] 📗

there are some things which a man cannot stand. She would have married me to that block of stone if I would have let her; and now, because she is disappointed there⁠—Insignificant! I never in my life heard anything so absurd, so untrue, so uncharitable, so⁠—She’d like me to bring a dragon home, I suppose. It would serve her right if I did⁠—some creature that would make the house intolerable to her.

“She must do it though,” he said again, “or she and I will quarrel,” and then he turned off towards the gate, preparing to go to the parsonage.

“My lord, have you heard what has happened?” said the gardener, coming to him at the gate. The man was out of breath and almost overwhelmed by the greatness of his own tidings.

“No; I have heard nothing. What is it?”

“The bailiffs have taken possession of everything at the parsonage.”

XLIV The Philistines at the Parsonage

It has been already told how things went on between the Tozers, Mr. Curling, and Mark Robarts during that month. Mr. Forrest had drifted out of the business altogether, as also had Mr. Sowerby, as far as any active participation in it went. Letters came frequently from Mr. Curling to the parsonage, and at last came a message by special mission to say that the evil day was at hand. As far as Mr. Curling’s professional experience would enable him to anticipate or foretell the proceedings of such a man as Tom Tozer, he thought that the sheriff’s officers would be at Framley Parsonage on the following morning. Mr. Curling’s experience did not mislead him in this respect.

“And what will you do, Mark?” said Fanny, speaking through her tears, after she had read the letter which her husband handed to her.

“Nothing. What can I do? They must come.”

“Lord Lufton came today. Will you not go to him?”

“No. If I were to do so it would be the same as asking him for the money.”

“Why not borrow it of him, dearest? Surely it would not be so much for him to lend.”

“I could not do it. Think of Lucy, and how she stands with him. Besides I have already had words with Lufton about Sowerby and his money matters. He thinks that I am to blame, and he would tell me so; and then there would be sharp things said between us. He would advance me the money if I pressed for it, but he would do so in a way that would make it impossible that I should take it.”

There was nothing more then to be said. If she had had her own way Mrs. Robarts would have gone at once to Lady Lufton, but she could not induce her husband to sanction such a proceeding. The objection to seeking assistance from her ladyship was as strong as that which prevailed as to her son. There had already been some little beginning of ill-feeling, and under such circumstances it was impossible to ask for pecuniary assistance. Fanny, however, had a prophetic assurance that assistance out of these difficulties must in the end come to them from that quarter, or not come at all; and she would fain, had she been allowed, make everything known at the big house.

On the following morning they breakfasted at the usual hour, but in great sadness. A maidservant, whom Mrs. Robarts had brought with her when she married, told her that a rumour of what was to happen had reached the kitchen. Stubbs, the groom, had been in Barchester on the preceding day, and, according to his account⁠—so said Mary⁠—everybody in the city was talking about it. “Never mind, Mary,” said Mrs. Robarts, and Mary replied, “Oh, no, of course not, ma’am.”

In these days Mrs. Robarts was ordinarily very busy, seeing that there were six children in the house, four of whom had come to her but ill supplied with infantine belongings; and now, as usual, she went about her work immediately after breakfast. But she moved about the house very slowly, and was almost unable to give her orders to the servants, and spoke sadly to the children who hung about her wondering what was the matter. Her husband at the same time took himself to his book-room, but when there did not attempt any employment. He thrust his hands into his pockets, and, leaning against the fireplace, fixed his eyes upon the table before him without looking at anything that was on it; it was impossible for him to betake himself to his work. Remember what is the ordinary labour of a clergyman in his study, and think how fit he must have been for such employment! What would have been the nature of a sermon composed at such a moment, and with what satisfaction could he have used the sacred volume in referring to it for his arguments? He, in this respect, was worse off than his wife; she did employ herself, but he stood there without moving, doing nothing, with fixed eyes, thinking what men would say of him.

Luckily for him this state of suspense was not long, for within half an hour of his leaving the breakfast-table the footman knocked at his door⁠—that footman with whom at the beginning of his difficulties he had made up his mind to dispense, but who had been kept on because of the Barchester prebend.

“If you please, your reverence, there are two men outside,” said the footman.

Two men! Mark knew well enough what men they were, but he could hardly take the coming of two such men to his quiet country parsonage quite as a matter of course.

“Who are they, John?” said he, not wishing any answer, but because the question was forced upon him.

“I’m afeard they’re⁠—bailiffs, sir.”

“Very well, John; that will do; of course they must do what they please about the place.”

And then, when the servant left him, he still stood without moving, exactly as he had stood before. There he remained for ten minutes, but the time went by very slowly. When about noon